Turncoat
by The-Ugly-Turtleduckling
Summary: Sherlock is back. John isn't quite ready to forgive him. Just a short poem dealing with some Empty House feels.


Heeeey you guys! Looong time no see, eh? Hehehe...he...

I'm sure you all hate me by now, but life and stuff has most certainly gotten in the way of my writing of late. Buuuut anyway, about a year ago I got into BBC's AMAZING, BRILLIANT, UTTERLY SPECTACULAR show Sherlock...aaand I got hit HARD with the bug. (Like, literally, as soon as the riding crop came out in "A Study in Pink," I knew I was a goner. HOOKED.) So all I've been writing in the past year, which still is veeeery little, is Sherlock stuff (And okay, I admit it, a love sonnet or two to Tom Hiddleston. Because HIDDLES, guys.), and all I've been reading is Avengers and Avatar and Sherlock fanfiction...yiiikes.

**_Anyway, summarily:_**

1. I am a lazy son of a gun.

2. Benedict Cumberbatch has an amazing...well, everything, but particularly his eyes and cheekbones and bum and don'tevengetmestartedonthatgodda mnpurpleshirtofhis. And what it does to his torso. And obviously he's incredibly talented.

3. Martin Freeman is adorable and fucking talented and is a BAMF and his lady is a cutie patootie who totally eggs the fandom on. As does he. Plus, he's an excellent Bilbo.

4. Hiddles is a whirlwind of sexy, multitalented, intelligent, compassionate, beautifully dorky awesomeness (I could go on in detail for ages, but no one wants to hear that) and his Henry V literally made my soul bleed tears of awe. And duh, Loki. Nuff said. Always a favorite - I mean, way back when, when I went to see Thor, I was expecting some Hemsworth shirtless action to be the highlight of the film but then I see this dark-haired kid and go 'Oh shit there's a cute little brother...knowing a little Norse mythology, is it...Loki? Oh my, I can tell he's gonna be an antagonist...' And then later THIS GUY walks in and I'm like FUCK IT I'm screwed. Instantly a goner. ...I'm a sucker for antiheroes.

5. These three lovely Brits, along with several others, have completely ruined me for other men by raising my standards impossibly high.

6. Moffatt and Gatiss are SuperTrolls.

7. You've all stopped reading this by now, so I'll say something random. SHARK BAIT HOO HAA HAA.

... ... ...

This poem I wrote over the course of about a day...it may not make sense to some of you, but I hope I got my point across. Just read it and we'll see, I guess. It's set around the time of the case of The Empty House in ACD canon. Basically, it's right when dear old Sherly comes back. John's POV, of course. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, or anything described herein. Though I reeeeallly wish I did. Any of it. Really.

**WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!**

* * *

**...**

**"Turncoat"**

**_March 5-6, 2013_**

**_..._**

**_._**

I see you with your weary grin,

Like you've been to hell and back again.

"Welcome home," my smile says,

(Though it may ring with bitterness).

"You cannot come in."

.

The punchline is we're not the same.

Too long, too late, just empty frames.

Despite your airs, you did not win;

Solely trusted next of kin

(You share only surnames).

.

A tragic plunge it must have been,

That slow descent the mind replays.

The fragile beauty of your face,

Stung so red by wet cement

And still, like all dead men.

.

There is no victory in this.

The only thing seen here -

A child raising tiny fists

To spite the city's vapid bliss

At dismissing his fear.

.

So sure the sun will rise to kiss

His brow - he, like a deer,

Dives to greet every near miss;

Does not think it dangerous.

"Things aren't as they appear."

.

I cannot let you come so near

To feel the heat your form emits.

A struggle, for I feel it fits

To beat you till it's all too clear

I hate (love) you to bits.

.

Oh head, my heart was broken there,

Crushed beneath your skull.

I patched it, froze it, in the place where

We never knew "dull."

.

Twine of stone to match the shards

Grown in a marble field.

Let it corrode, and let the Yard's

Dark words start to feel real.

.

Grief in blue and rage in red,

The color of my tears.

What were the words I could have said?

My friend, my brother, you were dead.

.

So leave, you rotting lying corpse,

Drop off your live veneer.

I cannot stand to think of you,

The truth you say you thought I knew

Sits burning in my chest. **_"Adieu."_**

**_._**

[But please don't disappear.]

.

.

.

_**END**_

* * *

.

Welp, that's it! Hope you all got that basically, John's angry and hurt and he needs some time to sort this revelation all out, but he's also super happy his pal is alive and he'll eventually forgive him and hear him out and let him come live with him again.

_**Also, super secret news:**_ I've been working on a supercool Sherlock story, all about Moriarty and how he came to be who he was when he died. This literal plot bunny was born last summer with a small realization, followed by some coincidental factors and a big idea that exploded in my face like Semtex and wouldn't let my brain go. I'm pretty proud of it thus far, but in order to avoid disappointing my readers like I have with stories in the past, I intend to finish it before I post it at all. That way I can update regularly and actually have an ending. Keep a look out! :)

.

Thanks so much for reading! Please review if you have time.

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Love and cuddles,

The Ugly Turtleduckling


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